


i would rather look at you (than all the portraits in the world)

by BurningFairytales



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M, Nicknames, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 19:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7187369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningFairytales/pseuds/BurningFairytales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeremy smiles as he slides the cup closer to him and hands him the receipt. That smile, Jean notes distractedly, makes his eyes appear brighter.</p><p>(On the backside of that receipt, written in neat handwriting, is the word <i>‘Cariño.' </i>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i would rather look at you (than all the portraits in the world)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one for my friend Lina's birthday, but was really scated of posting it because I wasn't sure if it was any good.  
> But my other friend, Jenny, told me it was okay and in character, and that I should post it, so here we are.  
> (Guess it has the exyspacegay seal of approval, maybe? Thank you!! :D)
> 
> But yes, here we go, a fic with a fluff content of at least 30.7%.

_and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them_  
_when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun_ _sank_  
[...]  
it _seems they were all cheated of some marvelous experience_  
_which is not going to go wasted on me_

 

"Hey handsome!” the barista greets him, a bright smile on his face. “Come here often?”

Jean meets his eyes with an unimpressed look of his own and takes in the man in behind the counter.  His blond hair is messy; the green apron has the café’s logo stitched onto it, and the nametag reads ‘ _Jeremy_.’

He doesn’t bother to ask for Jean’s order, apparently too busy smiling, so Jean supplies, “A regular Moroccan mint green tea, please.”

“Coming right up,” the barista replies. “You didn’t answer my question.”

There’s no one in the line behind him. Jean looks at him, silent, until he realises that he is actually supposed to reply.

“I just transferred to USC,” he says. “It’s my first time here.”

“Ah! Okay, I would definitely remember seeing a face like yours before.”

And if he wasn’t certain before, Jean now knows without a doubt that he is being made fun of. “I doubt it,” he replies.

“Ouch.” The man laughs. “Are you always this charming or am I just lucky?”

Jean doesn’t reply. He pays, before moving further along the counter to for his drink.

“Are you drinking it here, or to go?”

“To go.”

He barista grabs a paper cup, and starts preparing the tea. “Too bad,” he tells Jean. He quickly writes something on the cardboard sleeve and hands him the finished drink. “See you next time?”

Jean lifts an eyebrow, inclines his head while he wishes him a good day and leaves the café.

He doesn’t notice it until he’s finished the drink – really, he should have; he hadn’t been asked for his name – but the sleeve around his cup reads ‘ _Handsome_.’

* * *

The second time he visits the café, it’s more of a spontaneous decision. He’s in between classes – there is no point in going back to the dorms, and he hasn’t yet read the last chapter of the book he needs to have finished for his class tomorrow.

The café is nearby.

Jean rounds the corner and sees it. It seemed quiet the last time he went.  He might be lucky; maybe that barista from last time won’t be working.

* * *

He is not lucky. The man – Jeremy, his mind supplies – turns around as soon as he hears the doorbell chime, and his smile widens when he spots Jean.

“Hey,” he greets, as Jean makes his way up to the counter. “What can I get you?”

“Could I get some of the lavender-sage herbal tea?”

“Sure thing, mijo.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Jean pulls his wallet out. Jeremy notices, and grins. “I’ll have you know I’m fluent. Are you having it to-go, or…?”

“I’ll drink it here.”

Jeremy smiles as he slides the cup closer to him and hands him the receipt. That smile, Jean notes distractedly, makes his eyes appear brighter.

(On the backside of that receipt, written in neat handwriting, is the word ‘ _Cariño_.’)

* * *

Jean visits the café a few more times in the following weeks. I’s a nice atmosphere; there are always other customers so it’s never deserted but it’s never overly busy either.

Jeremy, Jean realised, likes to chat, and at some point, Jean lost the reservations he originally had about talking to him. He’s a genuine person, Jeremy, and although Jean doesn’t understand his need to joke around every time they interact, he finds himself enjoying their conversations.

(His paper cups have, until this point, read things like ‘ _Schatz_ ,’ ‘ _Gorgeous_ ,’ or  ‘ _Tesorino’_ – even though Jean repeatedly told him his name the first few times. He’s decided to stop bothering by now.)

Unlike him, Jeremy comes from a big family. He’s smart, is fluent in Spanish and speaks a bit of German. Apparently, he’s recently started taking French classes, too.

They’ve both played Exy in the past, and they’re both students at USC.

“You’re here early,” Jeremy greets, when Jean enters. “We got a new selection of tea this morning. I think you’d enjoy this one!” He holds up a packet victoriously. “It’s green tea. With strawberries and grapefruit.”

It sounds sweeter than what Jean would normally choose, but Jeremy is looking at him expectedly, and he’s willing to try something new.

“I’ll have one then,” he says.

Jeremy grins and turns around to prepare the tea. Jean watches him; watches his broad shoulders and sees the way his hair ends just above his neck. For a second, he wonders if it feels as soft as it looks before he shakes his head.

When he gets his drink, his usual nickname reads ‘ _Sweetie_.’

Jean decidedly does not roll his eyes as he moves to sit at his usual table.

* * *

The next time he visits the café, it’s a late Sunday evening. There are no other customers inside; it must be almost closing time. Jeremy is wiping the counter, but he straightens immediately when he sees Jean.

“Hey!” He greets, but frowns. Jean rakes a hand through his hair absently, before walking to the counter.

“Are you okay?” Jeremy asks.

“Yes. The last few days have just been stressful,” Jean replies. “Could I get a latte?”

Stressful, really, is an understatement. Not even taking his exams into account, and the two essays he needs to hand in this week, there’s also the thing he saw on TV this morning. Riko Moriyama is dead.

Riko Moriyama, former Raven captain.

Riko, who taught him Exy, but who made his life a living hell.

Riko, who had tried his best to break him, and would have managed, if Jean hadn’t chosen leave; hadn’t chosen to go to USC.

“That is the first time you’ve ordered anything other than tea,” Jeremy says. “Must be bad.”

“I don’t particularly like the taste.”

Jeremy hums. Then, “do you trust me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you trust me?  With your drink?”

Jean considers saying no, but the truth is, it really can’t get worse than a regular coffee. He nods.

“Great! Go sit down; I’ll just be a minute.”

He complies, sitting at the table in the corner. His usual spot.

It doesn’t take long for Jeremy to follow. He’s carrying a cup in one hand, a sharpie and small paper bag  in the other. “Here you go, _anata_.”

And Jean – Jean _freezes_. He shouldn’t. It means nothing. Jeremy has been coming up with ridiculous pet names for him for the last few months. It is purely coincidental that today’s happens to be Japanese. But it reminds him so much of Riko that he doesn’t know what to do.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jeremy looks at him, worry creasing his forehead.

Jean grits his teeth. “Yes,” he says. “Yes, just. Not that one. Don’t call me that.”

Jeremy doesn’t say anything for a moment, just sits down, looking at Jean.

 _Seeing_ him.

Then he shrugs. “Okay,” he says.

He quickly writes something on the s, then hands Jean the drink and paper bag. “A citrus green tea latte for you,” he says, almost proudly. “And a blueberry muffin on the house.”

Jean takes both, gratefully. He hadn’t asked. Jeremy had seen his reaction and hadn’t asked.

The cardboard sleeve reads ‘ _Snygging_.‘ Jean doesn’t recognise the language, and it’s purely for research purposes that he slips the carboard into his wallet when he leaves the café almost an hour later.

And it’s only because he forgets to throw it away that it remains there.

* * *

They run into each other on campus that following Friday, and it’s so odd to see Jeremy in his regular clothes, without his signature green apron that Jean almost has to look twice.

Jeremy, however, is already waving and jogging over to him.

“Hey!” He says, grinning, when he reaches Jean. “Fancy seeing you here, mon Coeur.”

“We’ve never seen each other outside of the café, have we?” It’s a pointless thing to say. Jean knows exactly that they haven’t, and he knows Jeremy knows, as well.

“True,” Jeremy nods anyway. “It was about time, right?” He laughs.

Jean thinks it’s a beautiful sound.

“I’d ask you out for coffee, mon amour, but…” he winks. “Seriously though. You look good today.”

And this is… this is crossing the line, really. Because Jean is _confused_. Jeremy is attractive, and he’s obviously flirting, but shouldn’t there be a point where the joke stops being funny?

“Why do you do that?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“The compliments. The smiles. The endearments. I know you aren’t making fun of me, so why keep doing it?”

Jeremy stares at him. “Wait,” he asks, bewildered. “Are you serious?”

“I am.”

“Oh my god.” Jeremy starts laughing. It’s not mocking. “Oh my god, you really don’t get it?”

But then the laugh is gone, replaced with a much more solemn look. Jeremy reaches for him, places his hand on his shoulders, before leaning in.

Slowly, like he wants to give Jean a chance to pull away, and when he doesn’t, he closes the distance between them, covering Jean’s lips with his own.

It’s a sweet kiss, slow and gentle, and it’s over before Jean has a chance to respond.

“I’ve been flirting with you because I like you,” Jeremy says. “Why do you think I started taking French classes? Your accent isn’t all that subtle.”

Jean doesn’t respond at first. And then, “You like me.” It’s a bit of a question.

“Yes,” Jeremy laughs again. “Yes, I do. I meant it, you know. You’re gorgeous. You’re funny. I _like_ you.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to. I was never expecting anything to come out of this. But I like spending time with you, and I would want to keep doing that, if you don’t have a problem with… _this_.”

“I don’t…. no. But I-“

“It’s fine! Really,” Jeremy squeezes his shoulder before letting go. “I wasn’t even planning on saying anything, but you asked. “I’ll see you around, right?”

And then he’s turning away, getting ready to leave, and Jean reaches out before he makes the conscious decision to move, gets a hold of Jeremy’s arm and pulls him back. He reaches for his face, turns it, just slightly, and kisses him.

It’s hesitant. Jean doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he thinks of Jeremy, his laugh, his messy hair; his pet names and his jokes. He thinks of that kiss, too short and over too soon, and thinks that maybe he wants that again.

Jeremy responds, burying one hand in Jean’s hair and placing one on his arm. “ _Jean_ ,” he murmurs against his lips.

It’s the first time he’s called him by his name, and it’s the best thing he’s called him since they met.


End file.
